Look at that! 3
by Minerva394
Summary: Hermione Granger watches a rugby match with her father. One player seems familiar, but it's hard to tell with all the mud ...


Look at that!

Part III – Thorfinn Rowle

October 10th, 2003, Bristol, Station Road, Clifton Rugby Club

After returning to England from their forced sojourn in Australia Mr and Mrs Granger had decided not to move back to the outskirts of London where their practice had been before. They were wary of meeting former patients, as the closing of the practice had been rather abrupt.

Since 1998 the Grangers lived in Yate, Gloucestershire, in a bungalow at the end of a cul-de-sac, while their new practice was in Bristol's Clifton area. During their time in Australia Mr Granger had become interested in Rugby. A patient in Bristol – with a non-Rugby-related tooth problem – had told his dentist about the club he was training with, the Bristol Bisons. Mr Granger was surprised, as his patient was quite overweight, on the plus side of forty and a drag-queen on weekends. Now Hermione's father was training twice a week, too, was a lot fitter than before and quite content in never making the starting formation for the matches of the amateur rugby club. A club that was by it's own definition "the South West's first inclusive and queer friendly rugby team".

Mrs Granger was torn between shaking her head about her husband's new hobby and being glad that he had not taken up something even more dangerous like driving a motor-bike.

Today was a charity match against the Westcountry Wasps. While there had been some glorious autumn days lately now it was raining heavily. The field was already getting soggy. Hermione had a rudimentary understanding of the rules and the strategy in Rugby and she was glad that her father was enjoying the match so much. Father and daughter were sitting huddled together in the first row, Mr Granger pointing out moves and players.

"Hermione, I think they are bringing in our new Fullback! The guy is a marvel! I think he might be going on forty but he sure is quick."

The young witch looked towards the coaching area where a tall blond guy with long hair and a headband like Bjorn Borg was getting rid of his jacket while listening to his coach's last minute advice. The Bristol Bison's colours of pink and black looked ridiculously good on the player. Hermione thought of long-ago evenings in the Gryffindor dorm when Lavender Brown had experimented with that combination.

The first half nearly over when the game finally picked up. The replacement player was indeed very good, he blocked attacks easily. He reminded her of somebody but she could not place him.

During the intermission Hermione and her father queued for tea. Beer might have been more appropriate but it was simply too cold for it. The rain was coming down even harder now and everyone was glad that this was the last match for the season.

Ten minutes into the second half the players were hard to distinguish from each other as they were already caked in mud. The new fullback was running at full tilt towards the Grangers, his shoes making splashing sounds on the wet field. A Wasps defender tried to stop him and succeeded, tangling both men on the outline right in front of Hermione's feet. The fullback got to his feet again, holding out a hand for the Wasps player. Both turned towards the referee and the Bristol player was shaking out his blond mane, splattering the spectators in the first row.

The Bisons lost that game but overall the day had brought in a lot of money charitywise, therefore the mood in the White Lion pub was quite boisterous. In groups of three or four the players, mudfree thankfully, startet to arrive. Mr Granger and the others greeted them loudly and began to discuss strategy before the men could even order their first pint. Hermione was sitting in a far corner next to the fireplace, nursing her half pint of cider. She had brought a book along but so far she was watching her father and his new friends. He was clearly enjoying himself. As it was Sunday the young witch adhered to the Granger-rule of `No schoolbooks on Sunday´ and soon lost herself in Sarah Water's "Fingersmith".

"Do you mind if I sit with you for a while, Ms Granger? I am still freezing inside."

Hermione looked up. It was the new player, his hair now free of mud.

"Please sit down and get warm. Do I know you? You seem familiar but I cannot quite place you."

The man hesitated.

"Thorfinn Rowle." At Hermione's gasp he continued, "Please be assured, you have nothing to fear from me. And I will leave if me sitting here bothers you."

"No, no, that is not necessary." Hermione looked closer and then blushed.

"I fear I Obliviated you in that café, I am sorry for that."

Rowle looked at her as if she were mad.

"Don't, just don't! Never apologize for that. Antonin and I had the order to capture Potter at all costs. To bring him to the Dark Lord. I do not want to imagine what would have happened to you three had you not been quicker!"

Hermione had apologized on a reflex, as especially near her parents the moral ambiguity of her Obliviating them was often in her thoughts.

"You are right. It was war."

"Yes, it was. Certainly no place for children, even if they are dubbed a child of prophecy. Many of the more traditional Death Eaters could not understand Dumbledore in this. Magical children are precious, they are not to be risked. In the end the forced marking of Draco Malfoy at the age of sixteen cost the Dark Lord a lot of his supporters."

"It did not feel like that at the battle of Hogwarts, there were more than enough on his side."

"Yes. Hags, giants, werewolves and vampires by the dozen. But a lot of the outer circle supporters had already withdrawn, and had instructed their families accordingly. Even some Inner Circle members were only fighting for show."

"I must admit that safe for Snape and the Malfoys I did not follow any Death Eater trials closely. I wanted to concentrate on my parents, and I wanted to forget. Meeting Dolohov by chance was quite a shock."

"I would imagine. He told me that he'd nearly crashed into your car. And that he hadn't recognised you at first. Only later it came to him who you were. You might expect a letter from him if his parole officer gives him the clear to write to you, he truly is very sorry about hurting you."

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Tell me, Mr Rowle, did we really meet by accident today?"

The man looked a bit sheepish.

"Not quite. When I was trying out one player mentioned a daughter called Hermione. I was looking for something besides work. I cannot play Quidditch and I thought that rugby was less complicated than football. I work as a carpenter in a Muggle firm, I am forbidden to contact my family or anyone marked, there is no wizarding community in Bristol. I joined the Bisons on the off-chance that that daughter could be Hermione Granger because after the Shunpike-bill I guessed you would at least talk to me."

"But why is it important for you to talk to me?"

"Do you remember how you felt the first time in Diagon Alley or at Hogwarts? Having no contact with other magical beings is terrible. As a Muggleborn Hogwarts must have felt like coming home to you. Our magical cores need other magical cores to correspond with. There are some old places with inherent magic but you have to sit there for hours and meditate."

Hermione remembered the rush of emotion, the feeling of absolute rightness of her first meeting with Minerva McGonagall. She had attributed that to finally having an explanation for all the weird things happening to her. But then she had felt that way right after opening the door to the professor, she had had no way of knowing whether she was a missionary or something else entirely. She vowed to research this.

"Mhm. Do not count on seeing me very often. I like to support my dad in his hobbies but I'd rather he played chess than rugby."

"No matter. If I can be near a witch or wizard ever other month that's enough. I tried sneaking into Birmingham's wizarding district but without a glamour they found me out rather quickly. Muggle police had to rescue me. Antonin is still teasing me about that."

"If you're forbidden to contact Antonin how do you know about his meeting me?"

"Magical means are monitored but Muggle post is all right. And if I meet him by chance, in Gloucester or Cardiff maybe, 'cause my job's taking me there? Your pal Potter's actually pretty reasonable about the terms of our parole. I think he knows how grateful to him we both are for offing the Dark Lord."

"Hermione, Mum is expecting us for tea soon."

"Right, Dad, let's go. Mr Rowle."

"Ms Granger."

Hermione did some research. She found out that the Death Eater parolees were only allowed absolutely basic house hold spells, they even had to shave the Muggle way as a shaving spell could be used with malicious intent. And she delved into the Unspeakable library. Closeness to another magical person was indeed absolutely necessary for the wellbeing of a witch or wizard. Meeting somebody every two months was enough, as was having a familiar, but having absolutely no contact with the wizarding world brought on a whole slew of issues. Each witch or wizard reacted different, from general antsiness and an inability to concentrate to immune deficiencies and violent mood swings. Hermione's research shed another light on the problems of Muggleborns. A lot of them had a history of physical or psychological problems that were not entirely explainable with their environments reactions to accidental magic. An ex-Death-Eaters remark brought on a remarkable change in wizarding Britain's handling of Muggleborns: their parents were contacted before children started school, they were given the option of magical primary-schooling and each family was assigned a magical sponsor.

When Harry Potter told his old friend Hermione about at visit with Mrs Figg and her worry about her last litter – the kittens were only half-Kneazles and therefore not easily marketable in the wizarding world - the young witch smiled in a slightly strange way.

After the third report of a remarkable improvement in the parolees' disposition Harry Potter decided to make surprise visits to Antonin Dolohov in Wales and Thorfinn Rowle in Bristol.

He found nothing suspicious besides the fact that both men now were the proud owners of Kneazle cross-breads, the calico Nadeshda, at five months already a proficient mouser, and the tabby Mr Cat who liked to eat – sleep – repeat, just like his great-grandfather Mr Tibbles.

Fin


End file.
